//------------------------------// // 16 - And Very Much Like a Black Swan // Story: Urban Wilds // by Rambling Writer //------------------------------// Bitterroot woke up. This both was a surprise, considering she’d been dead, and wasn’t a surprise, considering who she’d been working with. She ached. She hadn’t ached the last time she’d been resurrected. Or not immediately, anyway. She’d just been undead as soon as she’d woken up. Maybe she was already alive again? She put a hoof to her carotid. Heartbeat. Huh. She traced a line across her neck. No new scars. Double huh. “Um. Hey. You feel alright?” Bitterroot blinked and looked around the room. She was lying on the floor in… a morgue? Made sense. Most of the gurneys had been pushed aside to give her room and she was in the middle of a circle drawn out with chalk. Several ponies were standing some ways away from her. The ones in military uniforms were scribbling down notes, the ones not in uniform were gawking. Standing immediately over her was Amanita, looking concerned. Propping herself up on her legs, Bitterroot said, “Yeah, actually. And I didn’t need to be undead this time.” (The scribblings redoubled.) “The Guard gave me some extra materials and instructional help,” said Amanita. “I could do a better ritual than before. Faster and less hangover-y. Already did one today. …So, uh… you killed yourself.” “Yeah, sorry about that. Gloss was threatening to kill me, but she couldn’t do it without opening herself up. Really, with you around, all I did was cut a hostage negotiation short. I’ll explain later.” “Oh. …This isn’t gonna be a thing, is it? You dying, me raising you again.” “Ah, come on. You know you love it.” Amanita smiled a little. “Well, better using necromancy for this than something else.” Bitterroot rolled over, stood up, flexed all the joints she could remember. No problems. “So what’s go-” One of the uniformed ponies pushed forward. “Excuse me! Ms. Bitterroot. I’m with the Ritual Division and I was-” “Hey!” snapped Amanita, waving a hoof at him. “I just resurrected my best friend, can we have a moment?” The pony faltered. “I- suppose-” “I’ll come back when I’m done,” declared Bitterroot. She pulled Amanita from the morgue and slammed the door behind them. “Sorry,” said Amanita. “They’re just- They want to know what the… experience is like and if you’re still okay. Metaphysically. Officials.” “Which is fine,” said Bitterroot, “but I just got resurrected, I need some time to adjust.” “No, you don’t.” Bitterroot smirked and winked. “Yeah, but they don’t need to know that.” Amanita chuckled. “So here’s what I know about the Mearhwolf: several ponies led by High Gloss, trying to run a ritual to kill Princess Twilight. Anything else?” “Not yet, no. It’s still the same day you died, just two or three hours later. The newspapers are going nuts with this, trying to get it out for the evening edition.” “Do you know what they’re going to say?” Amanita shook her head. “No. The Guard’s keeping a close watch on what info’s getting out. The papers know that the Mearhwolf’s been captured and curfew’s being lifted, but that’s about it for it. I’ve… told the Guard they could mention me as a necromancer if, if they need to, but I haven’t heard anything.” “Really?” Bitterroot asked. Her ears turned forward and she rustled her wings restlessly. “You’re okay with that?” Shrugging in a helpless sort of way, Amanita said, “It’ll come out eventually. I’m in a good light now. Might as well do it now, right?” She let out a breath and said, in a more serious tone, “Really, this is the best possible time for it. It’s one thing to say I’ve changed, it’s another to appear in the paper with the headline, ‘Necromancer Helps Catch Serial Killer’.” “Heh. Yeah.” Bitterroot experimentally rolled her joints again. Still no issues. “You got any problems? With… I dunno, anything?” “No. Everything’s just fine with me.” “Right. Then I should probably get back to…” Bitterroot jerked her head toward the morgue. “Sorry.” “Yeah, no, I get it,” said Amanita. “This isn’t the best place for conversation. I’ll, uh, go hang out at your house, okay?” She took a tentative step down the hallway. “Yeah, sure.” Then, right before she entered the morgue, Bitterroot swung around. “And just FYI,” she said, “you can stay there as long as you need to.” “Yeah, I figured,” Amanita said. “Thanks anyway.” Bitterroot nodded to her and closed the door. Immediately, one of the uniformed ponies trotted up to her. “Ms. Bitterroot,” he said, bowing slightly. “I am Warrant Officer Mason Chain, and I was wondering if you, as one of the first resurrected ponies in Canterlot’s borders-” “I’m only answering your questions in a conference room or somewhere else I can sit,” Bitterroot said flatly. “ ’Cause you’ve got a lot of questions, don’t you?” Mason glanced over his shoulder and said to another one of the guards, “Told you.” He turned back to Bitterroot. “At least you seem alert and lucid, to start. Come on. There’s a room not far from here.” After a few false starts, Amanita managed to find her way back from the morgue and to the foyer she’d first stepped into… yesterday? It sure didn’t feel like yesterday. Compared to the earlier stares, nopony paid her any attention anymore; they were all too busy running back and forth as word about Gloss spread like wildfire. She’d resurrected the earth pony who’d attacked her, as well as Bitterroot. Given the hullabaloo around Gloss, Code had said she could wait until tomorrow, when things quieted down a little, before going to the last two families of the Mearhwolf’s victims. She had nothing more to do. The doors to the outside world stood open to her and nothing was stopping her from going home. So, naturally, she turned around and headed back into the castle. The last few days had shown her some things, had taught her some things. She knew her feelings better now that she had applied them in real-world situations rather than the abstract possibilities of therapy. She knew what she could and couldn’t do, psychologically, morally, legally. And, as she knocked at the door to Code’s office, she knew what she wanted to be doing in the future. Code was hard at paperwork, filling out form after form on things Amanita couldn’t tell. She still had her armor on, although she’d removed the helmet for her regular glasses. In spite of her short mane, she had a remarkable amount of helm hair. Her candy jar was open and discarded wrappers were neatly piled up on one corner; she seemed to prefer chocolate. “Amanita,” she said. “Take a seat if you want to talk.” She gestured to the chair opposite her, then nudged the candy jar closer to Amanita. “Um. Thanks.” Amanita sat, but she didn’t take any candy yet. “Working on the red tape?” “No. Ensuring the anti-lawyer countermeasures continue to function properly.” Code waggled her quill at Amanita. “It’s all in how you look at things. The regulations aren’t there to stop us from doing our job, they’re there to ensure guilt is established beyond a reasonable doubt.” She set aside the form and went to work on another one. “Besides, where’s the fun in throwing the book at criminals if the book is just a single sheet of paper? Oh, and one more thing…” Code pushed one of the already-filled-out forms at Amanita. It was a lengthy, legalese-ridden description of Amanita’s raven messenger and the spells involved. “The enthrallment of the raven was in a hazy area, legally speaking, but the Court found sufficient justification for it to be allowed.” “And by ‘the Court’, you mean ‘you’?” “Hardly. I’m an officer, not a judge. I have very little influence in that field if I am not asked for advice, and I was not asked.” After retrieving some toffee from the jar, Code went back to her paperwork. “So, what are you here for? Pardon me if I don’t stop working. There’s a lot of it.” “Um. First of all, do you… need me for anything more? Besides those last two families, I mean.” “At the moment? No. We may have need of you eventually, for legal reasons, but I’ll let you know ahead of time. Not for a few weeks, I’d say. All of this needs to be sorted out first.” “Good.” She could leave, Amanita knew. Get up right now and leave necromancy behind forever. Start anew. Finally, what she’d wanted for years was within her grasp. But that didn’t feel right. It was just… unsatisfying, after what she’d done these past few days. And she was so far down this path, it was the only one she knew how to walk. What else could she do? So, instead of leaving, Amanita took a deep breath. “Then… i-if you want me, I’d- like to see if I can use necromancy in service of Equestria.” Code looked up, head tilted. She let the pen drop from her mouth. “As in, continue to use?” she asked. “In an official, fully-employed capacity?” “Yes. I-” Amanita swallowed. “I know necromancy, something nopony else in the Guard does. I can resurrect dead guards, allow communication with the dead, the- stuff I’ve been doing. But, not only that, but if we can- continue working with necromancy in an environment that isn’t completely power-hungry, maybe we can- expand it in… positive ways that no other necromancer would think of.” She’d kept telling herself that she didn’t want to go back into the muck of necromancy. But this wasn’t the same muck, was it? She was wading into it for the explicit purpose of cleaning it out. In that context, it felt… satisfying, an undercover cop breaking up a crime syndicate. There were plenty of things she could do with the proper guidance. On a whim, she added, “Hay, I can just show you how thralls or zombies are made so you can better fight them, and you don’t want zombies around, do you?” “Indeed,” said Code. “Having a population that is not composed of zombies or at risk from their malign influence is vital to Equestrian and allied national interests.” “…Did you quote that from somewhere? That sounds official.” “Section 5a, paragraph 1 of CONOP 8888-11, ‘Counter-Zombie Dominance’,” Code replied with a straight face. “Equestria’s anti-zombie-apocalypse plan. As one of the sources of zombies is necromantic rituals, I am acquainted with it.” Amanita nodded. “O-okay. Yes, I can, I can work with that. If, if you’ll have me.” “If we’ll have you,” Code said with an amused snort. “That’s- Amanita, do you know the main problem with studying necromancy?” “Nopony likes thinking about death?” Amanita asked. “Not quite. It’s that nopony likes desecrating the dead. And until you figure out the basics of necromancy, desecrating the dead is the most you can do. Trial and error to figure out what works and what doesn’t. And that means you either need to go grave robbing or get someone’s permission to experiment on them after they die. Even if you get their permission, you can’t say how long they’ll take to die unless you want to kill them yourself.” Amanita tentatively nodded again. It was easy to forget in this age of schools of magic, but if you traced things back far enough, every spell had to have been invented at some point. The tenets of necromancy would naturally lead to it being avoided by ponies with a sense of empathy. It was morally-neutral to test, “Will this spell light a fire?” Less so for, “How does this spell affect the dead?” “The thing is,” continued Code, “you already know the basics. You know more than the basics. You are exactly what we need to study necromancy. Once you tell us what you know, we can start extrapolating, figuring things out without actually needing any death. And if we still need death, well, that’s what the resurrection spell is for. You are, without any exaggeration, probably the single most invaluable resource for official necromantic study since the Preclassical Era. Since before the Preclassical Era. I, for one, would give you my utmost support if that’s what you want.” Yet again, Amanita nodded, this time more surely. With Code on her side, this couldn’t not go smoothly. “But…” It was only slightly, but Amanita’s heart still sank. The last time in the past half-decade she’d really had her hooves beneath her, she was in prison. Was a little stability too much to ask for? “I’m not blind,” Code said. Her voice was softer than Amanita had ever heard it before. “I saw the way you acted during… all of this. At times, this was… trying for you, and with a past like yours, I can’t say I’m surprised. But you did it anyway. Is this something you want to do, or something you think you have to do? As much as I’d welcome your help, I don’t want you to feel obligated to do something you hate. I know the stress of that full well.” Amanita opened her mouth, closed it again, looked at the floor. “I…” Not knowing what to say was becoming an all-too-familiar experience for her. “To be honest,” she said, “I do think I have to do this. I’ve got a lot of moral debt to repay. And I don’t know what I’d do with myself otherwise. But…” She raised her head. “I also want to do this. Saving Cobalt and Phalanx, helping all those other families find peace, it- It felt better than anything I’ve felt in years. All that time I spent as a lich’s apprentice, it, it won’t be for nothing. I can do something with it. This is… I feel like I belong here. Like a- The way a chef belongs in a kitchen.” She felt herself nearly redden, but it was the best comparison she could come up with. Code pursed her lips thoughtfully. Then she nodded. “Good. Good. In that case, I’ll see what I can do once some of this Mearhwolf mess gets untangled. I can’t guarantee the Guard will actually accept you or in what capacity, but I’d be very surprised if we didn’t, and I’ll put in the best word for you that I can. A word that, I should mention, is quite good and even more influential. And I’m sure Princess Twilight would love to have you on board. She… likes studying magic.” “Thank you.” So… was she supposed to feel different? This was a big event in her life, accepting necromancy like that. Amanita felt like she was supposed to feel different. But she didn’t. Just… still overwhelmed. Battered about like a toy boat in a storm — and that had nothing to do with her current decision. Or maybe the differences had been gradual, a little bit at a time, too small to notice the change from one hour to the next. She didn’t want to hide away part of herself. She didn’t think she was a ticking time bomb. She felt better than she had a few days ago, at least. “I’ll… get going, then.” She stood up, plucking some chocolate nuggets from the jar. “Be seeing you. And, Amanita?” Code raised her head to look Amanita in the eye. “Take care of yourself. I don’t want to see you burn yourself out.” “This isn’t burnout,” Amanita said. “It’s the spark of something new.” Code grinned. “Glad to hear it. Be well.” Pegasi were forming clouds as Amanita trudged for Bitterroot’s house. There was a thunderstorm scheduled for the afternoon. She knew it’d been scheduled weeks in advance, but funny how the weather was that after the Mearhwolf had been captured. When she’d first walked through Canterlot, it’d felt big, elaborate, grandiose. She’d been so taken up by the Experience that she hadn’t noticed the little telltale signs here and there that something was wrong: streets a little emptier than they ought to be, few ponies actually walking rather than trotting, knots of ponies being tight and looking like they were talking in hushed tones. She hadn’t known about the Mearhwolf. Now she noticed all those things, but she was just waiting for them to loosen up. What would the nightlife be like tonight, once the evening papers declared the city was safe again? Riotous? She almost wanted to go out herself, just to see it. Maybe she would. She needed to get to know Canterlot. And if she did… declare she was a necromancer and she’d helped catch the Mearhwolf? Maybe. It was surprising she was even considering it, but it’d be one hay of an icebreaker. Or maybe just mention she’d helped catch the Mearhwolf and leave out the necromancy until she was asked what she’d done. She could just imagine the looks on ponies’ faces. As Amanita approached Bitterroot’s house, a familiar shape fluttered down from the sky and landed on a railing. “Bread,” croaked Lenore. Amanita almost ignored her, but she stopped and took another look at Lenore. “You know,” she said, “ravens are associated with death. Wanna be my familiar?” Lenore ruffled her feathers. “Bread?” “I’d probably have to kill you. You wouldn’t get bread anymore.” Lenore squawked angrily and took off. Evidently, between immortality and bread, Lenore would choose bread every time. Or maybe she was just impatient. After entering Bitterroot’s house, Amanita almost collapsed onto the couch and pulled out her books. Instead, she began rifling through her bags. In spite of how empty they were, it took her a while to find it, since it was so small, but she eventually pulled it out: the locket Zinnia had given her all those years ago. It was a cheap thing, made of shiny gold-colored plastic, but it had an emotional connection, and that was what counted. Next, Amanita took a piece of chalk and went to Bitterroot’s backyard. Grass wasn’t the best surface for this, but she could make it work. She rolled around in the grass a few times, flattening it down. Then, slowly, methodically, she traced out a circle, making sure her stick left behind as much chalk as possible. When she closed the circle and the infrathaumatic hum started, she knew she could make this work. And that was what gave her pause. She’d planned on calling up Zinnia, one last time, just to let her know how things were going, the new path she was taking in life. But she’d promised to never call up Zinnia again, and “never” meant “never”. How would Zinnia react to that promise being broken? Just for some minor self-praise? But they’d left on such bad terms. Amanita couldn’t let that rest, could she? She’d be wrecking their relationship for… eternity, maybe. She’d changed. Zinnia needed to know that, even if she still never wanted to see Amanita again. She needed to know that Amanita would never do that again. This was about friendship. And friendship was the most important thing in the world, according to Princess Twilight. But in that case, where did the promise fit into “friendship”? So which did she care about more? Zinnia knowing she’d changed, or keeping her promise to never summon Zinnia again? The locket glinted slightly at the end of its chain. In this light, it almost didn’t look cheap. Amanita reached forward and smudged the circle. She’d made a promise to the love of her life. That promise deserved to be kept and Zinnia deserved a peaceful afterlife. Even if that weren’t true, she couldn’t ask Zinnia to love her again until she loved herself. She was almost there, but not quite all the way just yet. But she didn’t leave, not just yet. She wanted to say something to Zinnia, if only one last apology, and her mind was racing. How could she do that without breaking her promise? How could she talk to the dead without necromancy? Well. Nopony else knew, and they did it anyway. Might as well follow their lead. She raised the locket to eye level. Deep breath. “Hey, Zinnia,” she said. Already, her emotions were welling up, threatening to steal her words. “Um. I… I said this before, b-but I am so, so sorry. I- I didn’t know what I was doing, but that doesn’t make it better. Whatever you feel about me, it, it’s justified. Even if you want me to rot in Tartarus for eternity.” She clenched her eyes tight shut and pressed the locket against her head. Tears trickled down her face as mixed truth and self-loathing spilled out. “You w-were right. A-all th-that time, you were r-right. I should’ve l-let you go. I- I don’t know w-what I w-was th-thinking. I sh-should looked a-at- I should’ve r-realized- It was a-all so- Stars above, I am so sorry.” She wasn’t really saying the words, just dredging up emotions and letting them come out of her. The actual words themselves seemed to happen naturally, right before they left her mouth. She agreed with every single one of them. She took a deep breath and steadied her voice. As she wiped her face down, she continued, “But I- I’m doing my best to make it up.” It didn’t sound like tail-covering. More like a genuine confession. “I’m going to- I might be joining the Guard. I can- I brought back a murder victim yesterday and- and I can do it again. I can- help ponies talk to their dead family members- Just, just for that last bit of closure. I’m- I’m going to keep ponies from going through what I went through. I’m just- I’m sorry that you had to go through… that for me to get there.” The locket was twisting on its chain and swinging in the wind, as if restless. “That doesn’t justify anything I did to you,” Amanita said. “I- I promised I’d never summon you again, and- and I’m going to keep that promise. I know this isn’t really in the spirit of it, but I just- We- I don’t know who else to talk to right now,” she admitted. “I’m lost and I’m scared but I know where I’m going and I’m excited and it’s all such a sunblasted mess and nopony gets me like you did. You were so- You were always the one I could talk to the most. Right up to what should’ve been the end.” She took a long, shuddering breath and hung her head in her hooves. Her magic wavered and the locket slipped to the ground. “I’m s-sorry,” she whispered. She picked up the locket again, cradling it in her hooves. “But I’m still keeping that promise. A-after this, you’ll n-never hear from m-me again. N-not like this, not i-in any other w-way. I- I just needed- one last cry.” Deep breath. “May you rest in peace.” And that was that. Above her, thunder rolled. Next to her, a blade of grass twitched as a raindrop hit it. Amanita didn’t want to move just yet. She could live with a little rain. Then she heard the door open. She twisted around; Bitterroot was standing there. “Amanita?” she asked. “You okay?” “Yeah, yeah.” Amanita quickly stuffed the locket into a pocket and got to her hooves. The rain was picking up already. “Just- thinking.” “Oh. …Personal?” “Personal.” “Right.” Bitterroot zipped her mouth shut. “C’mon in. The rain’s gonna be cold.” The downpour started moments before Amanita was inside. Bitterroot passed her a dish towel, saying, “Everything’s fine with me, except that I’m not getting the Mearhwolf’s bounty. It looks like we’ll both get the twenty-five thousand for information, though. The Guard is still working it out.” The towel wasn’t very big, but it got the rain off of Amanita. “Fair enough. Just so you know, since I didn’t get to all of the families of the victims, I still need to finish those up in the next day or two.” “Alright. And you’re… doing fine, right? No… panic attacks or anything.” “No. I’ve… actually been thinking about joining the Guard.” “Joining-” Bitterroot’s wings twitched open. “As a necromancer?” “Yeah. Let’s sit down.” And so Amanita explained her reasoning to Bitterroot. The way she’d been led to it. Why it felt right. The more she told Bitterroot, the better it felt, the more she knew that, yes, this was the right decision. None of her words rang false to herself, even when she looked at them from different angles. No, this was definitely the direction she wanted to take her life. “…and that’s where I stand,” Amanita finished. “I’m waiting on Code to get back to me, one way or another. Don’t know how long it’ll take.” She shrugged. “Uh-huh. So, um…” Biting her lip, Bitterroot twisted some of her mane around her hoof. “That sounds… good, but… two days ago, you didn’t want anything to do with necromancy, and now you’re… doing this. It sounds like a good idea, don’t get me wrong, but how do you know you’re ready?” “I don’t. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and I’ll think it’s a terrible idea. Maybe I’ll join up and have a stress breakdown in a year.” Amanita looked out the window, out at the rainy streets of Canterlot, out at the streets she’d helped make safe. “But I’ve… These past few days have gone far better than I ever could’ve hoped. I’ve been accepted by some ponies. I’m doing good with necromancy that no one else can. And- And you’re around. I’ve got somepony I can talk to if things go bad. I can take some risks.” She’d been swimming in the same pool for years in prison. If she wanted to change, she needed to step out of that stew of withdrawal and self-pity. “Good. Good.” Bitterroot nodded. “If that’s what you think, then… yeah, go for it. I’ll be by you every step of the way. As long as you’re sure, of course.” Watching the rain streak down the windows of Bitterroot’s house, Amanita smiled. “Yeah. I’m sure.”